


The Eye of the Hurricane

by sammmchahine



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety Attacks, Comfort, M/M, Storms, alex really needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7338223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammmchahine/pseuds/sammmchahine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Alexander and Thomas both find what they need, in a place they least expect, from the person they least expect it from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eye of the Hurricane

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!! This is my first work here on AO3, so please be kind!! I really love this ship and I loved this idea and there wasn't a fic already so I thought screw it I'll write my own. Thank you!! Please leave kudos and comment!!

The dorm halls in Columbia University are usually packed with people- students hurrying to get to classes or leisurely walking to meet friends. It was a place for socializing and for relaxing- except at night.

At night they were just fucking creepy- empty and quiet, the usual noise of chatter no longer present. Tonight, the hallways were filled with the heavy pounding of thunder and the fast crackling of lighting as the storm raging outside the campus grew bigger. Wind screamed outside the windows, and tree branches smacked the glass ruthlessly.

Thomas Jefferson couldn't sleep- never could during a storm; they just kept him awake. It wasn't that he was afraid of them, no, they just too hectic and too loud to allow him to fall asleep. As Thomas was wandering the deserted hallways of Columbia at 3 AM, he didn't expect anyone to be awake. He kept his ears open, though, listening to the light sound of his bare feet on the carpet below, the heavy patter of rain on the windows, the small inhales and exhales of his own breathing. It was almost calming, the big hallway completely empty, no person in sight. Almost.

Thomas slowly walked from his room at the back corner of the dorm hall up the hallway, around the corner, and into the bathroom. His mind was still drowsy, exhausted from the long day of classes and studying. His eyes were only halfway open, as he didn't possess the strength to fully open them. Stepping in the room, he flinched slightly at the icy tile beneath his feet, and the bright light from the led lights on the ceiling. He stepped up to the mirror, and looked at his own reflection, grimacing at what he saw; Thomas was an attractive man, there was no denying that, but the hours of sleep lost to cramming for midterms had done a number on him: his bloodshot eyes had bags under them, and his normally perfectly trimmed beard had long since passed stubble. His face was a little more sunken in, jawline a little too heavily defined, cheekbones a little too sharp. 

He quickly looked down, turning on the faucet for the sink and soaking his hands in the cold water. The sound of the running water was drowned out by the rain that was still heavily pounding against the windows, which created a thick hum of noise. He softly splashed his face and turned the faucet off. Water dripped softly down his face as he blinked away any droplets that feel onto his eyes. Grabbing a towel, he was about to dry off his face when a sudden clap of thunder struck, the loud noise causing him to jolt and smack his hand on the counter in front of him.

"Motherfucker," he growled, as he nursed his throbbing wrist. The storm had only gotten worse since it began hours ago. Thomas was just about to turn to head back to his dorm to get some ice for his hand, which was probably going to bruise, and - damn it, it was his right hand, of course it would be his right hand- when the door to the bathroom flung open.

A student, small in stature with their head covered by a hoodie rushed through the doors to the bathroom and straight into Thomas's ahoulder. 

"Shit- sorr- I'm so sorry," the man  
stammered, and- wait, Thomas knew that voice. That was the voice of a man who seemed to be the source if all his headaches- the one who constantly argued every word out of Thomas's mouth. The one who, just today, accused him of being a "insufferable, entitled dish rag."

"Hamilton?" Thomas asked, the scowl that had been forming on his face now evident, as the hoodie on the other boy's head was pushed back to reveal Alexander Hamilton's dark eyes and hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he'd been crying and the bags under his eyes made it look as if he hadn't slept in days. His face was taut, pulled into a tight frown. His eyes grew hard, and suddenly the Thomas' hurting hand was forgotten as Hamilton scoffed.

"Thomas? Of fucking course it was you," Alexander mumbled as he shoved his way past Thomas, shoulder colliding harshly with his own. 

Thomas had already opened his mouth to retort back when a loud clap of thunder caused a small yelp to emit from Alexander as he visibly shrunk down.  
"You can go now," he said, voice hard as he glanced quickly at Thomas, before retreating into the stall of the farthest bathroom. 

Thomas, slightly surprised at the sound, now had a smirk forming on his face. "I have every right to be in this damn bathroom as you do. What, scared of a little lightning, Hamilton?" He walked slowly to the stall Hamilton had retreated to and pressed his ear to the door, hoping for one of Hamilton's quick-witted retorts.

He waited there for a moment, but silence was the only answer Thomas received. He pulled away from the door and scoffed lightly, turning around to leave. His hand was pressing against the sliding door when yet another clap of thunder struck, this time louder than the first, and accompanied by a flash of bright white, which lit up the window on the back wall. The booming, however, didn't worry Thomas nearly as much as the choked sob that escaped from the last stall. 

What the fuck? Thomas paused. Why did he care? It was only Hamilton, right? Loud-mouthed, abrasive, arrogant, know-it-all Hamilton. Right?

He looked back towards the locked stall, then towards the window at at the dark clouds that were gathering over outside courtyard. The storm really was getting worse, rain pattering harder against the window, now, hitting almost as hard as hail. Wind was rustling, causing tree branches to scrape harshly against the walls of the dormitory building. Anybody in their right mind would've tried to sleep through it, trying to avoid it altogether, hoping to wake up to clearer skies. 

Thomas glanced back at the stall door, where he could now hear the soft panting of Alex's hyperventilating.

"Jesus, Hamilton, you all good there?" Thomas asked, hoping for more than silence this time. 

No such luck. 

A minute passed.

Then another.

Fuck it, he finally thought to himself, before quickly striding over and knocking softly against the stall door. Thomas heard the panting stop suddenly as Alexander's breath caught. 

"Fuck outta here, Thomas," Thomas heard Alexander mumble softly. His voice sounded hoarse.

Thomas took a breath, "Not until you let me in there." 

There was a pause.

"What?" 

Thomas shuffled in place, uncertain. A moment later, "I said, not until you let me in there, Hamilton." 

Thomas heard shuffling in the stall, and took a step back as the door flung open, releasing the breath he didn't know he was holding. Hamilton was facing him now, but he was looking down. The hoodie had been thrown back from his head and his hair was torn from its ponytail. 

"Fuck outta here, Jefferson," Alexander repeated, voice too shaky to be threatening but too tired to care. Alexander looked up, finally, and Thomas could've died right then and there at the sight of the tears silently but steadily flowing down his face. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy from the crying, nose red sniffly. 

While Thomas and Alexander were constantly arguing, throwing insults at each other every time they passed each other in the halls or on their way across campus, Thomas has never seen the man cry, Alexander always laughing off the jabs or retorting with his own. But now here he was, completely vulnerable, tears almost as heavy as the rain outside. He looked shrunken, smaller than usual. 

Thomas stiffened, unsure of what to do. Alexander seemed to notice, his eyes hardening as he quickly grabbed the stall door to pull it shut once more.

He was only stopped by Jefferson's hand on his own, and the sound of the firm, "No." 

Alexander looked up, but before he could do anything, Thomas had already pulled the smaller man close to his chest, wrapping his arms tight around the small back of the crying boy. Alexander froze, body still and totally uncomfortable until the biggest flash of white lighting yet sent him flinching straight into Thomas's arms. 

After a minute of both Thomas and Alexander feeling horribly uncomfortable, Alexander finally softened, relaxing into Thomas's grip as the other slowly brought one hand up to run his hand through Alexander's loose hair. 

Alex's soft sobs into Jefferson's sweatshirt was slowly replaced by a soft humming, a gentle vibration into his chest. The warmth of the embrace eased both men, the calm against the harsh of the rain.

The storm went on for hours, yet Thomas still never let go of Alexander. They had eventually sat down, huddled together onto the floor of the stall, Alexander's nose nuzzled into the crook of Thomas' neck. The rain continued, and Alexander still jumped at the slightest crack of thunder- but now he had Jefferaon to hold him, and the reactions became much more tame with Jefferson whispering, It'll be ok, or I got you, Alexander, and-

Oh, Alexander. He liked how that sounded on Jefferson's mouth. 

That was something he could get used to.

Jefferson didn't notice that they'd both fallen asleep until he woke up the following morning lying flat on his back on the bathroom floor with Hamilton lying on his chest. His arms were wrapped around Jefferson's torso, and their legs were tangled together. The steady rise and fall of Hamilton's breathing felt light on Jefferson's chest, and he couldn't help but crack a small smile as he studied the relaxed grin on Hamilton's face.

Hamilton woke soon after, quickly lifting his head up, not recognizing his surrounding. He looked at the face staring back at him, Jefferson's hesitant and small smile almost questioning, hopeful. Alexander, remembering the events of the previous night, let out a breath. His eyes were no longer red from crying, no longer puffy. He actually looked rested for once in his life. 

Alexander, assumedly tired of holding his head up, proceeded to let it drop back down to Thomas's chest.

"Um.. thanks, Thomas, for last night. It actually... really helped...," Alex mumbled into Jefferson's sweatshirt. 

Thomas smiled, hand reaching up to run through Alexander's hair. "You're welcome." 

A moment passed.

Then, "You don't have to tell me why, you know. If you don't want to. It's ok."

Alexander did look up at that, dark eyes studying Thomas's deep brown ones. His breath wavered only for a second, before he responded, a soft smirk appearing on his face, "Then you don't have to tell me why you were up at 3 AM, either, because we both know it wasn't from studying."

Thomas felt his mouth drop open, but only for a second. His grin turned into a laugh- a whole hearted, real laugh. Alexander looked at him before slowly joining him, giggling into Thomas's chest, shoulders shaking up and down. 

"You know," Thomas said through the laughter, "we're still on the fucking bathroom floor." 

"Aw, fuck! That's so fucking gross," Alexander said, full volume, still laughing. Thomas sat up, Alexander falling into his lap. Thomas grinned and stood, wiping his sweatpants off from the dirt they'd accumulated from the dirty floor before sticking his hand out to Alexander, who still sat on the floor, criss-crossed legs, wearing a stupid grin on his face. Alexander grasped the hand, allowing Thomas to pull him up quickly, and if Alex had stolen more than one subtle glance at Thomas' arms, well, nobody had to know that. 

They both walked out of the bathroom lightly, smiling, and still holding hands.


End file.
